


Time Of The Season

by alienharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha Harry, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Omega Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-12 22:51:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienharry/pseuds/alienharry
Summary: When writer's block stands in the way of Harry completing his second novel, he turns to the sweet-smelling omega behind the counter of his new favorite coffee shop for inspiration.





	Time Of The Season

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetlouist91](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlouist91/gifts).



> It was a pleasure writing for you. I sincerely hope you like it.

There are a lot of difficulties that come about when writing - finding a plot, expressing ideas, creating a unique voice in a sea of other writers doing the exact same thing - but the most difficult part of writing has to be… well, writing. Sitting down with a million different ideas buzzing about and the intention to write them all down is entirely different than actually putting pen to paper and writing a coherent story. It takes time and patience and talent, none of which Harry believes he has enough of anymore.

When he was fresh out of uni, Harry published his first novel. It had been in the works since his first year and had started out as just a jumble of his thoughts. Over the years, it accumulated into a semi-biography that sold successfully as _The Inner Alpha_. It wasn’t exactly a best seller, but it sold enough copies to keep him living comfortably in the heart of Manchester.

Now, he’s halfway through his second novel, and there’s nothing coming to him. Every thought, every idea, every measly word that ignites some motivation inside of him never makes it onto the paper. It seems like nothing he does is good enough these days. It’s as though he put all he had into his first book, and now he’s stuck with the leftovers.

It’s not even that Harry’s out of ideas or motivation - he has plenty of those. There’s just a lack of contentment in what he’s producing. Anytime he finds himself the least bit proud of what he’s written, he reads it back and finds an intense hatred inside himself, wanting nothing more than to scorch the words.

On days when he feels completely hopeless, when he knows even opening his laptop is a lost cause, Harry goes for walks. It’s soothing in some respect. They help calm that internal struggle he has when he’s hyperfocused on his story. A nice mental break is all he needs sometimes.

This time, Harry’s bundled up tightly for his walk in the cold winter weather but still can’t seem to keep warm. So, instead of enjoying the fresh air, Harry starts looking for someplace warm to go. There’s a bookstore along the route he’s walking, but if anything is going to help him get back in his writing spirit, other people’s stories will most certainly _not_ be it.

There’s a cafe just down the street from Harry's flat. The smell of coffee beans always drifts out onto the sidewalk in front of the building, and it seems to constantly have a revolving door of smiling customers coming and going. Harry’s never been in before, only ever passed by, because  he’s not really one for caffeinated drinks - and decaf just isn’t worth it - but something draws him in today. The faint smell of caramel coming from inside the cafe is alluring and it has Harry walking in before he even realizes what he’s doing.

He can’t identify the source of the delicious scent when he first enters, but after a few minutes of standing in line, he realizes -

It goes like this - Harry’s proud to be an Alpha. He doesn’t hold satisfaction in his orientation in the way that stigma tells him to. He doesn’t believe he’s the superior gender or any of that nonsense the media tries to make him believe.

He’s proud to be an Alpha because there’s a responsibility that comes with his position. He holds his title happily as he tries to disprove the stereotype that all Alphas think with their knot and can’t be held responsible for their actions.

“Alphas will be Alphas,” his aunt used to say when her unruly children would get into trouble. Harry’s not fond of that statement. He thinks it takes the blame off of people for making their own decisions, when in reality, being an Alpha means they should hold _more_ control over themselves.

So, regardless of all the stigma, Harry’s proud to be an Alpha. He prides himself on never behaving in a way that’s controlled by his instincts rather than his rationale. That being said, when he sees the omega behind the counter who’s running around and making some kind of drink that involves a steamer, he can feel his rationality slipping away, something primal taking the reins. The lapse of judgement doesn’t last long as shakes his head and forces the feeling away, but for a moment there, Harry understands.

He doesn’t hear himself ordering a coffee, doesn’t see himself paying. He’s so stuck in his head, trying to understand what just happened, that within the blink of an eye, the omega - the source of the caramel he scented earlier - is handing him a black coffee with the sharpest smile Harry thinks he’s ever seen.

Harry manages to smile back and say thank you before he heads home, replaying the moment in his mind the whole way back. He can’t seem to let go of what just happened - can’t forget the bright blue eyes, the stained white apron, or the name tag reading, in a careless scrawl, “ _Louis_ ”.

Harry finishes two chapters that night.

❆❅❆

The inspiration that struck only manages to last him three days before he’s right back at square one, staring at his blank page and feeling fury burn through him at an impossible speed.

There isn’t much he has in his wheelhouse to bring back a love of what he’s writing; nothing seems to work as well as what did last time. As much as Harry wants to refute it all and say that it wasn’t the omega, _Louis_ , that helped him complete his first chapter, he’s not naive. He knows that had he not walked into that cafe, he’d still be stuck despising his every written word.

It’s not a tough decision to go back.

This time when he walks through the doors, Louis isn’t there. Harry can tell without even looking. There’s a distinct lack of a certain energy. The edges around the cafe feel duller, and there isn’t that soft buzz enlivening the shop. The biggest difference to Harry though, as much as he hates to admit it, is the absence of caramel. The omega-sweet smell isn’t infiltrating every corner of Harry’s mind, and for some reason, that’s the biggest let down of them all.

Harry doesn’t let himself get in line just yet. The entire point of visiting is to hopefully spark some insight into his writing and help him move the plot along. Without Louis, Harry doesn’t see himself being able to write a single word that won’t make him want to throw his computer in the bin.

So, he sits. He takes a seat in the corner of the shop, trying his hardest not to be seen. If he stays long enough for Louis to get here, he doesn’t want it to be obvious that he was waiting for the omega. He’s heard horror stories of omegas being stalked by Alphas who didn’t know boundaries, and Harry doesn’t want to approach that territory.

It only takes about half an hour of dicking around on his phone for the door of the shop to open and Harry’s senses to be attacked by a caramel cloud that wraps around him and warms him from the inside out. He turns to look at Louis, only to see the omega already watching him.

Harry smiles, feeling the largest sense of relief when Louis smiles back before heading behind the counter, ridding himself of his coat and gloves along the way. Harry watches as he steps behind the register and punches something on the screen - assuming it’s the omega clocking in.

As soon as Louis finishes tying his apron around his waist, Harry gets in line. It’s much shorter this time around, meaning the employees can clearly see him move from his corner up to the counter. So, it’s obvious as to what Harry was waiting for. He can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, not when he can see Louis grinning as he sneaks glances.

Harry orders a black coffee, the same as last time, and goes to the other end of the counter to wait for it. He watches Louis this time, how he pours the coffee and places a lid on the to-go cup. He almost wishes he had a more complicated order, if only to justify staying here for a few extra minutes and watching Louis stand on his toes to reach for things, or to see him smile when his coworker bumps her hip against his.

In a way that he’s never been before, Harry finds himself absolutely mesmerized. There’s something so enchanting about this omega, this _Louis_ , that has Harry floating in a soft blue glow, everything around him chilled in the most enjoyable way, awakening something inside him.

When he gets his coffee and has to stop staring, Louis bids him a good day with a smile, his fingertips grazing Harry’s as he passes off the drink.

Harry walks home with the wind in his face, but the warmth leftover from Louis’ eyes curls around him in a protective blanket. The time passes quickly and pleasantly, but soon Harry’s back at his flat, staring at the blank screen on his laptop. His mind is so clouded with Louis that he can’t concentrate enough to write anything.

Yet he isn’t rushing to call the trip a bust. Thinking back on the electrifying feeling of Louis’ touch, he decides that the visit was definitely worth something. What, though, Harry isn’t sure.

❆❅❆

He doesn’t last even a day before the next time that he’s bundling himself into his coat and rushing back to the small cafe. This time he brings along his laptop. There’s something about Louis, something about the way Harry’s body reacts to him, that makes Harry’s writing so much more than he ever thought it could be.

Louis is on the register this time around, something Harry wasn’t expecting, and it takes a bit for him to work up the courage to go to the counter. He mucks about first, wasting time with setting up his laptop and opening his notebooks to the proper pages necessary before he realizes that he’s being conspicuous and gives in, finally approaching where the omega stands, a smirk on his face.

“Welcome back,” Louis greets.

“I… yeah.” Harry’s not sure why, but he suddenly feels shy. He’s playing every bit the Alpha counterpart that he usually isn’t. “You have great - coffee.”

“Coffee, right. That’s what it is.” Louis’ smile keeps growing, and Harry finds himself quickly feeling out of his element. He’s never been the type to blush and stutter his way through a conversation, but this omega brings something out of him.

Harry isn’t sure just yet if it’s a good thing.

“It might just be the shop in general,” Harry supplies, trying to gain some traction in the conversation to get him back on his proverbial feet.  

Louis laughs, a light sound that flutters around Harry’s ears like the first snowfall of the season. “You’re getting closer.”

Harry can’t help but smile at the sound of Louis’ laugh, enjoys the way it starts off softly but dwindles down to… well, almost as though he’s giggling. It’s addictive to hear, and Harry doesn’t want him to ever stop.

“It’s on the house if you tell me the real reason you keep coming back,” Louis offers, looking like he’s just come up with something to stump Harry.

“I’m writing a book,” Harry admits, not technically lying. “I have a bad case of writer’s block, and there’s something about this place that helps me through it.” He _is_ writing, and he _does_ keep coming back for inspiration. He just doesn’t confess what exactly it is about the shop that inspires him.

Not that he needs to. Louis’ knowing smile tells Harry that his explanation was about as transparent as the nervous smile he’s currently sporting is.

“Alright. Close enough. One black coffee coming up.” Louis types in the order as Harry fishes his wallet out of his pocket. Before he can pull out his money, Louis holds his hand up. “A deal is a deal, mate. It’s on the house.”

“Nonsense. Let me pay.”

“O-or,” Louis stumbles, and Harry looks up abruptly because that’s the first time the omega has ever not seemed completely grounded around Harry and… well, that’s a big deal for some reason. He can’t explain it, but just the one blunder has Harry’s heart rate picking up. “You, uh - instead of paying, you could just tell me your name.”

At the offer, Harry can’t help but grin. “Harry.”

“Harry,” Louis repeats, a much more reserved grin painting itself across his face. Harry almost wishes a flurry would make its way into the shop and freeze the endearingly bashful emotion on his face. “I’m Louis.”

Harry doesn’t say he knows, doesn’t pointedly look at the name tag resting on Louis’ shirt. He just smiles and repeats the name under his breath, letting Louis type in the order and cancel out any payment. He moves to stand at the end of the counter and wait for his drink, foregoing keeping an eye on his drink being made to watch Louis take orders the entire time. Even standing there in his uniform, a cheesy visor resting atop his fluffy, wind-blown hair, he’s still absolutely captivating, delicate in a way that makes Harry want to feel the strength underneath.

It’s not until he gets back to his table that Harry realizes he was not given a black coffee. It’s something that tastes strongly of spice, and he hates it. He doesn’t want to take another drink of it, but Louis’s watching him, so Harry plasters on a smile and turns back to stare at his screen for a while.

Just like before, he’s left with nothing to write. No words are of the proper quality to type out, and he’s afraid this whole visit may have been a bust.

He finds his eyes floating to Louis, watching as he switches out receipt paper before trading his spot at the cash register to clean out one of the machines in the back. Harry doesn’t find himself wanting to write at all. The only thing he has an urge to do is watch the cinematic way Louis’ body moves as he switches from station to station.

After twenty creepy minutes of unabashedly watching the omega work, a strong aroma of cinnamon floats up and captures Harry’s attention. His gaze moves to the coffee, the now identified as cinnamon drink he was mistakenly given. There’s something about the scent that just -

Suddenly Harry flashes back to when he was younger. He couldn’t have been much older than ten or eleven, and it was December. The house around him was decorated in garland and lights, smelling of pine and _cinnamon_.

It’s so simple, just a brief glimpse into his youth, and suddenly Harry’s fingers are on his keys, typing away with everything he’s remembering. His words painting a picture of stringing popcorn and setting up the nativity scene just to have his sister Gemma come and correct it because he put one of the wise men behind the manger.

His drink grows cold beside him, and the sky outside turns dark, but Harry hardly notices. He’s so wrapped up in the sparks flying from his fingertips, warming up the cold pages with his excitement and inspiration. Every paragraph, every sentence, is another bit of love woven from the strings of his heart, and nothing else can steal his focus.

That is, at least, until there’s a gentle knocking on the table in front of him that has his gaze lifting up from the screen. There, standing before him looking more amused than ever before, is Louis. He has a tea towel in his hand, and behind him, all of the chairs in the shop are stacked atop the tables. Harry was so caught up in his writing that he didn’t realize how late it was getting.

“We’re getting ready to close up,” Louis informs him, a sudden flush flood into his face in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry rushes to apologize. “I didn’t even notice how late it was getting.”

“It’s no problem,” Louis smiles softly, understanding lacing every word he speaks. “Really. I would’ve let you stay even longer, but the manager doesn’t want you in the way.”

“I - ”

Louis cuts him off, “I’m joking, Harry. I just came to warn you that there’s fifteen minutes until closing, and I didn’t want you to be surprised when we shut the lights off.”

“I really - ”

“Don’t apologize, love.” Louis is standing a good distance away from Harry, which is probably for the best because along with the term of endearment Louis threw out so casually, Harry’s heart is currently beating double time in his chest. He’s certain that if the omega were any closer, he’d be able to feel the pounding beneath his feet. “Just finish up what you’re doing, and I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s no trouble, really.”

“I… alright.” There’s no use in fighting over his apology, not when just one word has him flushing. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will.” Louis stays by the table as Harry saves his document and starts putting his laptop along with his notebooks back in his computer bag. “You sure must have gotten a lot done.”

“I did, yeah. More than I’ve gotten done in the past week, I think.”

Louis grins, small and enthralling in a way that makes Harry want to live in it forever. “Whatever it is about this place, it must really be good to keep you writing, huh?”

“Yeah it is,” Harry agrees. “It’s something special, that much is true.”

No more words are exchanged between them, but Louis lights up, a fire kindling in his crystal blue eyes and igniting something weightless in Harry’s chest. As Harry leaves the store, the fire in his heart continues to burn despite the blustery cold.

❆❅❆

Harry returns the next day, full of hope and ready to continue his streak of writing something he can finally be proud of.

Though, as he should’ve expected, opening the laptop deflates all possibility of churning out the rest of his chapter, and Harry makes his way to the line. Louis is standing at the register when Harry approaches, a caramel-sweet happiness surrounding the omega.

“Welcome back,” Louis greets, almost identical in tone to the day before. “I told you I’d see you.”

“There’s something about this place.”

Louis grins, laughing offhandedly. “So I’ve been told.” He watches Harry, as though expecting him to say something, but Harry can’t think of any words important enough to take his attention off of the captivating omega in front of him. “So what can I get you? Coffee as usual?”

Harry startles, suddenly remembering something. “Yesterday, I think you may have put the wrong drink order in actually. I got something cinnamon.”

Louis immediately flushes, a startling juxtaposition to how composed he usually is. “That, uh… That. Did you really?”

“Yeah, I did. I thought maybe it was on purpose, I - ”

“It wasn’t, it wasn’t. I just.” Louis clears his throat pointedly and then confesses, “You, uh - you _smell_ like cinnamon, so I must have - ” Harry can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of his mouth, making Louis blush even deeper. “I didn’t - ”

“It’s fine, Louis,” Harry consoles his vocal stumbling. It’s nice to be on the other side of it. “I actually wanted you to do that again. Surprise me with a drink.”

Louis’ eyes narrow in uncertainty, hesitant at the suggestion. “I… are you sure?”

“Positive. I need something to inspire me.”

Louis’ finger drops to the register in front of him as he types something in. “Does this mean you’ll be staying until closing staring at nothing but your screen again?”

“If I’m lucky.”

Louis reads the total, and Harry pays with actual money this time as opposed to their exchange of names from the day before, and he goes to the edge of the counter to wait. He watches the omega, as usual, and wonders if maybe one day he’ll get the courage to say something that doesn’t involve writing or coffee - something that isn’t just shop talk.

The beta who made his drink hands it to him with a smile that lacks Louis’ characteristic shine and does nothing for him. He takes a sip, moaning at the velvety chocolate of it. There’s no doubt it tastes amazing, and Harry’s certain he’ll be coming back for a second sometime soon. But as he’s sitting in front of his laptop, going back and forth between drinking and smelling the hot chocolate, he’s not inspired.

The drink doesn’t inspire anything.

Harry leaves after an hour and a half of nothing with a sad smile, and Louis frowns sympathetically from behind the counter. All in all, that makes the trip to the cafe worth it.

❆❅❆

When Harry goes in the next day, Louis isn’t there. He waits at a corner table for only two minutes before one of the baristas informs him that it’s Louis’ day off.

He doesn’t even bother opening his laptop.

❆❅❆

Like clockwork, Harry finds himself back at the cafe. He leaves his flat a little later than usual, hoping more than anything that Louis’ back at work and that he isn’t trekking into the harsh weather for no reason. It’s not so much the walk itself that bothers him, it’s knowing that his work isn’t benefiting from the steps he’s taking to improve it.

It’s quite possibly also not seeing Louis. That might just be another reason Harry’s making the effort to go to the cafe every day.

The shop is actually pretty crowded when Harry walks in, but his eyes immediately focus on where Louis’s putting whipped topping on a steaming drink behind the counter, his coworkers running about around him. Harry’s been around to see the midday rush, but it’s never gotten in the way of his schedule before. Usually he’s able to go straight to the counter and capture Louis’ attention for a little while, but today is an entirely different story.

He still stays in line with the other patrons instead of setting up his table like he should. It’s been well over twenty-four hours since he got his last dose of Louis, and he’s going through withdrawals -

His _writing_. It’s his writing that is going through withdrawals. Harry has no personal stake either way…

Or so he tells himself.

One of Louis’ Alpha coworkers is manning the register when Harry approaches. She’s the very same one that informed Harry of Louis’ absence the day before, and she gives Harry a knowing smirk when he orders himself a hot chocolate.

Another line has begun forming at the counter where the drinks are being handed off, but Harry doesn’t mind waiting. Especially if it means he gets an extended period of time to watch Louis hustling about making his drinks. Harry could watch an entire documentary simply about how the omega moves, and he would never take his eyes off the screen.

There’s something about him that’s just so _enticing_.

When the line moves up and Harry’s standing at the counter, Louis is the one to hand him his drink - not that it’s a surprise - but before Harry can smile with the promise for them to talk later, Louis’ hand curves itself against Harry’s forearm and guides him off to the side of the counter towards a door that reads _Employees Only_.

Being away from the masses, being alone near Louis, has Harry breathing in the aroma of caramel. He didn’t even realize how much he had missed seeing the omega until he was once again surrounded by the intoxicating, addictive scent.

Before he realizes what’s happening, his nose is approaching Louis’ neck, inhaling every step of the way.

“Uh…”

Harry’s startled away before he makes contact with Louis’ skin, backing himself away quickly in humiliation. “I am so sorry.”

“No, it’s - ”

“That was so rude of me,” Harry insists, the words falling out of his mouth in shame. “I’m so sorry, I never meant to… to offend you or get that close. I wasn’t trying to scent you, you just smelled so - Not that it’s an excuse! You weren’t - ”

Louis laughter stops Harry before he can over explain himself in an apologetic spiral to Hell. The omega doesn’t look angry or offended at all, but more like he’s amused. Harry feels a little lighter at that, but there’s still a painful twist of guilt coiling in his stomach.

“It’s alright, Harry.” Louis seems to be more than okay with everything going on, but Harry’s head is spinning. “I promise it wasn’t completely out of nowhere. I probably shouldn’t have dragged you over here.”

“It’s not your fault that I - ”

“Harry, honestly, you’re fine. I’m not mad at all.” His eyes never leave Harry’s, staring straight into them as he speaks slowly, and Harry’s inclined to believe him.

There’s something between them, something they’re both aware of but aren’t saying much about. It’s no secret that Harry finds something so enthralling about this omega that he can’t stop spending his money on hot drinks for the sake of “inspiration.” Hearing Louis wave off Harry’s accidental scenting - something the Alpha has never had happen before - settles him a bit.

It’s good to know that things aren’t completely one-sided between them,

Louis watches Harry for a minute before a smile too sharp to be innocent dances its way onto Louis’ face. “I heard you came in to see me yesterday. “

Harry can feel the blush climbing onto his face. “I didn’t come for you,” he explains. “I came to write.”

“Oh, right,” Louis is nodding, unconvincingly trying to act like he believes Harry. “Right. Did you manage to get anything done.”

The hot chocolate in Harry’s hand is suddenly heavier than before. It’s as though weight was added to it in the wake of Harry’s embarrassing visit. “I - ”

“Leigh-Anne said that you left as soon as she told you it was my day off,” Louis further explains. “Do you think she lied?”

“I mean - ”

“That’s not like her to just _lie_ , Harry. But if you insist that she did, I guess I’ll take you word for it.”

Harry clears his throat, unsure of how his face can be so hot when it’s far below freezing outside. “She didn’t… I did leave after I found out you weren’t coming in.”

“Oh?”

“Shut up.” Harry watches as Louis tries to hold in his smile but fails. “I came in to _write_ , like I usually do, but you weren’t here, so I didn’t feel inspired.”

“Oh, so I’m your _muse_ ,” Louis teases. “That’s it, innit? I’m the something special in the shop, right?”

There’s a mile wide grin taking over Harry’s face that he can’t stop, but he doesn’t want to anyway. The blush is still painting his cheeks, and the coil of embarrassment is haunting him, but there’s something about Louis that makes his playfulness so contagious. “I have to go write now,” he insists, the goofy look never leaving his face. “I assume I’ll hear more from you later?”

“Oh definitely,” Louis nods. “I can’t leave you alone after you went all ‘scent-crazy’ on me because you went a day without me.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait, hold on,” Louis insists before Harry can even move.

“What is it?”

Louis smiles, moving closer to Harry, grounding himself with a delicate touch to Harry’s wrist. “So what about me is most inspiring?” Harry rolls his eyes and turns to walk away, but Louis’ grip tightens its hold. “Wait, wait, wait!”

“What.”

“Good luck.” Louis’ face is sincere and his voice light. Harry can’t help but smile. 

“Thank you.” Harry goes to find an open table as Louis gets back to work. They couldn’t have been together for more than five minutes, but Harry feels better, lighter, than he did before. 

It’s not until he’s had his document open and empty for a little while that he notices something off about the cup Louis had handed him. Instead of it being the usual light orange color that he’s grown accustomed to, it’s white. It still has the same cafe logo, but nobody else in the store has the white cup, everyone else holding the one Harry  _ should _ have. 

The cup is also coated in doodles. The entire circumference of the paper cup is decorated in sketches. There’s a steaming teacup, a winning game of tic tac toe, and a stick figure riding a skateboard to name a few, but what really makes Harry look twice is the snowman drawn crookedly, almost as though it’s falling down. The coal eyes aren’t leveled, and the branches it has as arms are far too low, and it’s lovely. The carrot nose it holds is really the only part of the snowman that looks proper. 

It’s just a doodle, Harry wishes he could tell himself. There’s no reason behind the haphazard arrangement other than it was probably drawn in a rush. 

It’s just a doodle. That’s all it is. But what Harry sees instead is the very first snowman he built as a child without Gemma’s help. The body was misshapen, and it was clearly lacking in cinematic accuracy to  _ Frosty the Snowman _ , whom he was trying to emulate. It wasn’t a pretty snowman, but Harry was so proud nonetheless, and seeing the little doodle staring at him brings back the familiar feeling. 

Looking around at the still bustling cafe, Harry realizes Louis must have drawn the doodles long before Harry ordered his drink. There’s no conceivable way he would have found time with the hoards of cold and bitter customers demanding drinks left and right. 

Louis clearly thought about Harry beforehand. That in and of itself should hold enough inspiration for Harry to fill a book. 

So, he gets to writing. 

He writes until he finishes his chapter, every word fueled by his own pride and the admiration he holds for the caramel sweet omega he can hear laughing behind the counter. It’s an hour before closing when he finally finishes, packing up his items and walking toward the exit. He looks towards the counter one last time only to see Louis already watching him. 

The omega gives a cautious thumbs up in question, and when Harry returns the gesture, Louis’ resulting grin is blinding. It feels an awful lot like support, and Harry’s heart sings with it. 

❆❅❆

It continues like that for a bit - Louis continuing to do what he can to inspire Harry. Some days there’s a new drink or a treat awaiting him. Some days Louis gives him just the right smile. Sometimes Louis doesn’t even have to do anything at all. Those days just being in the presence of someone that captivating is enough to have Harry pouring pages of his own thoughts out. 

Those days are Harry’s favorite. 

There’s something so remarkable, so  _ magical _ , about finding something inspiring where he wouldn’t have thought to look before. Harry likes having Louis backing him, inspiring him to write, to do something -  _ be _ something. 

Every day is a new adventure, and pretty soon, Harry can’t even picture a future where he’s living without the omega standing behind the counter in his stained apron, pulling at the strings of Harry’s heart. 

❆❅❆

Harry finishes his book on a Tuesday. It’s not an outstandingly important day. There are no fireworks exploding in the sky, no parade marching through the streets. Nothing spectacular happens. 

One moment he’s enjoying a cinnamon and sugar bagel, and the next he’s… done. All his hard work has combined into the finished product of his book. He’s worked every day to write something he’s proud of, and suddenly it’s over. 

“Do you need anything?” Louis asks when he notices Harry close the computer. Harry had noticed the omega pretending to wash tables so that he could sneakily approach him, but he didn’t say as much. “I could do a dance if you’re not feeling inspired. Maybe sing a ballad?” 

Harry wants to laugh with Louis, wants to see if he’d go through with his suggestions, but, really, there’s no reason for him to. “Actually, I’m done.” 

“Yeah?” Louis picks his rag up off the table he was haphazardly wiping down. “You’re moving through that thing so quickly, mate. It’ll be finished any day now.”

“It  _ is _ finished.”

The words take a minute to hit Louis, but when they do, his eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, you meant the entire thing is finished?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Louis sounds and looks somber, but the emotion is only there for a moment before he’s perking right back, a smile bright enough to top any holiday tree. “That’s amazing, Harry! How excited are you right now?” 

Harry shrugs, not moving his gaze much, stuck staring at the same region of freckles on Louis’ cheek. He’s afraid if he looks away, Louis will disappear along with everything he’s written. “I don’t think it’s really hit yet.”

“Well when it does, don’t forget to thank me,” Louis laughs. “It wouldn’t have happened if I weren’t so special, right?”

It’s clear he’s teasing, and Harry wants nothing more than to play along and make Louis laugh, but something feels off. “Right.”

Louis watches Harry, his smile dimming a bit. “Well, I should get to work.”

“Yeah, I should be going.”

“Well you don’t…” He seems to think better of his words as his smile flattens, and he nods once, shortly. “I’ll see you soon, right?”

Harry forces a grin and packs up his stuff without so much as a confirming word. He doesn’t know what’s happening, why he feels so lost, but he needs to get out of the cafe before he does something he’ll regret. 

❆❅❆

Harry doesn’t go to the coffee shop again for three days. There’s no need, no reason. His book is done. He doesn’t need inspiration. 

So why does he feel something is missing every day?

The answer is simple. Louis. Without the omega making every visit a new experience, Harry’s days are bland, nothing of worth to keep him going. He’s sent his manuscript to his editor, and that should usually be enough to keep Harry dancing in the winter sky, but now there’s a Louis-shaped space in his life that he needs to fill. 

The walk to the coffee shop feels twice as long as it usually does, the wind hitting him in the face, making every step feel like a battle. 

The excitement greeting him when Louis’ eyes meet his make the journey worth it. “Look who’s back! It’s the Alpha known to exploit me for my inspiring actions. Ideas?” the omega says to no one in particular. He stops for a moment, looking up and dramatically tapping his finger against his chin before he shrugs and continues, “I’m not sure what I do that’s so inspiring, but it must be something  _ special _ .”

Harry can’t help but laugh. He doesn’t know what he was thinking by keeping his distance. Nothing in his books or his boring old flat could ever compare to being in Louis’ all-consuming presence. “Hello, Louis.”

The omega’s theatricality dies down, nothing but softness taking over his features. “What can I help you with, sir?” There’s something calm but energized about him, a contradiction that squeezes Harry’s heart and has him craving more. “Would you like a black coffee? Or are you already on your third book? If so, I have - ”

“Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

Louis’ eyes are narrowing, dwindling down to slits as he challenges Harry, but the grin never leaves his face. “Not yet,” Harry confirms, his smile mirroring Louis’. “I figure I should work on my own story before I try and write someone else’s again,.”

“Yeah?” Louis’ face is playful, his eyes dancing like the snow falling outside the window, and Harry’s beguiled in the trouble they hold. “And how do plan on doing that?” 

“I’m not sure yet,” he confesses. “You’ll have to inspire me.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on:  
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/sapphicbee) | [Tumblr](http://fourdrunksluts.tumblr.com)


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